Displacement
by Freya Ishtar
Summary: When Rose & Scorpius inadvertently trigger a mysterious artifact, it causes an unexpected magical side effect for Hermione & Draco. Having a second chance is more terrifying than it sounds when the lives and—much to Hermione's dismay—academic scores of their children hang in the balance. (Dramione/Scorose) MATURE
1. Dissolution

**DISCLAIMER****:****_ Harry Potter _****& all associated characters(c) JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Dissolution

Hermione drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lifting her gaze from the freshly inked scroll before them, she met Ron's eyes.

He was still one of her best friends in the world, she still loved him . . . . In a way. And so she had to believe this—making _this_ choice while they still cared for each other—was for the best.

"'Mione, it's okay," he said as he reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "We're making the right decision. For the good of the kids, right?"

Sniffling, she nodded. To think, he was the one being practical about the matter. It wasn't that she couldn't, or wouldn't be practical about it.

It was that she couldn't believe after all they'd been through, the one thing they'd managed to fail at was marriage. Though now that she thought on it, none of their friends or family had seemed terribly surprised by the news.

Yet the look of disappointment in her daughter's eyes . . . .

"I feel like Rose blames me for this," she whispered.

Harry came up on her other side, taking her free hand in his, and Ginny touched gentle fingers to her shoulder. Hermione glanced at the three of them, in turn.

"Of course she blames you," Ron said, his tone jovial and light, but his smile pained. "She's a daddy's girl."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself, feeling a weight lifted to know everyone agreed they were doing what was right. Nodding, she forced another sniffle and tapped her wand to the document, adding her name beside Ron's.

The attorney nodded, collecting the scroll and looking it over. "Well, all seems to be in order, then. Now, Mrs. Weasley, will you be keeping your married name, or should I put in a change order for you to go back to your maiden name?"

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes tight as she thought on that.

* * *

><p>The other three had left her alone for that discussion. Each had decided that was a deeply personal decision, and she'd only feel pressured to choose something she didn't actually want if they were all staring at her as she considered what to do.<p>

Closing the door softly behind her, she stepped into the corridor and started toward the lift. Biting her lip, she couldn't help looking over her copy of the filing. There it was, in black and sepia.

A door swung open, startling her, but she looked up too late, colliding with a man who was stepping out. The document fell from her hands, and she found herself equally responsible for knocking something from her poor crash victim's grasp.

Her gaze fell to the floor immediately and she scrambled to pick it up for him just as he bent to pick up hers.

"Oh, my God, I am so sorry, I didn't . . . ." Her words trailed off as she accidentally glimpsed the words on the man's document. _Dissolution of Marriage, Draco Malfoy and Astoria (Greengrass) Malfoy._

Hermione forced herself to look up, finding a fair, too-familiar face before her. He'd clearly used a magickal remedy on his hair, since his hairline had been receding whenever she'd caught a glimpse of him dropping his son at Platform 9 and ¾'s, yet now his platinum locks looked as full as during their days at Hogwarts.

She wanted to laugh at the thought that his wardrobe was probably a sea of black, since all she ever saw him in was crisp, dark suits, just as he wore now. He didn't look . . . old, as she'd imagined he would if she ever saw him up close. In fact, he looked quite han—horrible!

_He looks completely and utterly horrible_, she thought, the words rushed and irritated.

It wasn't only that he'd been her childhood bully, and done a dozen irreprehensible things—a few of which actually helped lead up to the War—it was that she'd literally _just _walked out of the divorce attorney's office, ink still drying on the papers for heaven's sake!

But he wasn't looking at her. His dark brow shot up into his pale bangs as his gaze skimmed the document in his hand. "Wow." He snorted a chuckle as he shook his head. "Actually didn't see that one coming."

She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words would come at first. Forcing a gulp, she held his document out to him, opening her free hand expectantly.

"Malfoy," she finally said, uncertain why her voice was unsteady. "My paperwork, please."

"Right, sorry."

He surprised her by handing it over without any further fuss.

"You're probably in a rush, too."

Hermione's eyebrows drew together. "Sorry?"

Meeting her gaze, he shrugged. "Not really a moment you want to run into a lot of people you might have to explain yourself to, is it?" He smiled mirthlessly and waved his own divorce filing in way of elaboration.

"Oh, yeah, not really," she said, smiling without realizing as she shook her head. His eyes . . . they were such a clear and flawless grey. Had she really not noticed when they were younger? They'd gotten into enough glaring matches.

He nodded and tried to step around her, only to realize they were both headed to the lift. Well, this was going to be an awkward five floors.

Somehow, they made it to the ground level without too much undue tension or fidgeting. Draco thought perhaps that was because there had been other people crammed in there with them.

He was grateful for the crowding, though. It kept him from looking at her too closely. From noticing that save for the faintest hints of crow's feet at the corners of her chestnut eyes, and a bit of tightening around her mouth, she'd barely aged a day since graduating Hogwarts.

And he certainly didn't want to consider that he actually didn't like how her hair was tied back just now. It was hardly as though he had a preference for that long and wild mane of golden-brown to hang loose and completely untamed, nor had he for even a moment noticed how her simple floral-print dress clung to her in a rather flattering way.

The very idea was _beyond _absurd.

As they stepped out onto the ground floor, they made their way to the exit in silence. Though, he did have to bite back a laugh when he held the door for her and she looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head.

Exchanging an uncomfortable nod, he stepped around her and started down the street. Hermione turned on a heel and began walking.

"Granger."

She halted. How long had it been since anyone had called her that? No matter, she'd better get used to hearing it again. Hermione pivoted on her heel to look at him. "Malfoy?"

He jutted his chin toward the document in her hand. "Sorry it didn't work out."

Her eyebrows shot up. She was beginning to wonder if he had suffered a traumatic brain injury that was rendering him incapable of being a wretch.

"Oh," she said, forcing a nod as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Right. Same to you."

He gave her a final parting nod. "See you around, Granger."

She couldn't help a grin. "Not if we're both extremely lucky, Malfoy."

Feigning a wounded expression, he chuckled as he turned and at last began walking away. Biting her lip, Hermione started for the corner where she'd parked her car.

After a few steps, she couldn't help glancing back at him. She saw his head turn, but didn't realize he was _actually_ looking back, too, until their gazes met.

She whipped her head around, refusing to acknowledge the flare of warmth in her cheeks.

Draco knew he was being ridiculous. Perhaps he was coming down with something. Yes, that was it. That had to be it, because as he'd said _see you around_, he realized he kind of did wish they'd bump into one another again. Under far less awkward circumstances, of course.

He sighed, shaking his head. At least Scorpius was at school, so he wouldn't have to receive one of his son's scathing looks when he entered Malfoy Manor, with the signed papers.

And with_out _Astoria.

Eyes closing, his steps stilled a moment as he shook his head. Scorpius wouldn't say it, but Draco just _knew_ the young man blamed him, and him alone.

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><p>Knockturn Alley had only grown darker and more twisted in the years since the War. There were talks now and then about gutting it and tearing out whatever Dark influence might still linger there, but no one actually seemed willing to do anything to make that happen.<p>

There were rumors that some of the shops there were _still _open. That patrons who frequented those places had grown darker, and more twisted to match the abandoned—or only _mostly_abandoned, if one believed said rumors—street.

Rose didn't quite care which, she was too busy being angry with Scorpius. Honestly! They had _one_ job! But then, if she'd felt she had any _real_ choice, she wouldn't have ventured to Diagon Alley on a mid-semester restocking errand for some of the school's supply stores in the first place.

She was so happy this was their seventh year and she'd never have to see his face again.

Perfectly innocent Ravenclaw she was, minding her own business, checking the list the Headmistress had entrusted to them. She'd known it was a test of their reliability—why else send students—and it was one she intended to pass with flying colors. But then she so happened to look up _just _in time to catch his pale hair and green-and-silver scarf disappearing down the darkened niche.

Groaning and hanging her head, she turned and inched toward the alleyway. For all she knew, how they dealt with one another on an assigned task—no matter how small—was possibly part of the test, too. She intended to become a healer at St. Mungo's, and he fancied himself applying for the DADA teaching post in the future, each included the likelihood of working alongside witches and wizards whom they didn't much care for.

Forcing a gulp, she took her first step into Knockturn Alley. It must be her imagination, but it felt colder, and the light seemed dimmer.

Rose looked up as she pushed herself to keep walking. The steepled and mismatched roofs of the blackened buildings here bowed and leaned, blocking the view of the sky overhead.

"Okay," she whispered, pretending her voice wasn't shaky. "Not my imagination, it actually _is_ darker here."

Oh, once she caught up to Scorpius Malfoy, it'd be a miracle if she didn't strangle him with his own ruddy scarf!

But, as she set her head level and peered along the deserted street, she didn't see him anywhere. The place was so quiet and still. So very empty she could hear the echoes of her own footfalls, and the beating of her own heart in her ears.

Frowning, she wrapped her arms around herself. He was probably doing this on purpose—waiting around a corner somewhere to jump out at her. Probably thinking he could return to Hogwarts and tell all his snobby, pure-blood friends how he'd spooked the daughter of the Brightest Witch of the Age.

She bit her bottom lip hard. If that's what he thought, then he had another thing coming!

The hollowness of the air around her unsettled her, and the light dimmed further, still, as she moved along. Her gaze skirted darkened and broken windows as she walked, each missing or jagged pane of glass staring back at her like empty eye sockets.

Honestly, he'd not been that far ahead of her. Where could he have gotten to?

Tired of the Slytherin shenanigans—and even more tired of feeling the atmosphere of this dark and desolate alleyway press cold and heavy against her skin even through the fabric of her clothes—she inhaled fast and deep to shout his name.

But then her attention landed on a sign, hanging half off its post. Chipped black paint against dark, splintered wood read _Borgin and Burkes._ This was the place her parents and Uncle spoke about.

The place where Scorpius' father had become a Death Eater. She'd bet a Galleon Scorpius was in there, poking about.

Of course, by all accounts Draco Malfoy was a perfectly upstanding citizen of Wizarding Britain _now._ But things like that left shadows, deep and murky.

She came to a halt at the shop entrance. The door stood ajar, and she simply stared into the narrow, darkened gap.

Despite their contentious history with one another, Rose knew Scorpius wasn't a terrible person—though, oh how he _tried_ to act like one, bloody pain in the arse. What could he possibly want in seeing the place where his father made the darkest decision of his life?

Reaching out a tentative hand, Rose eased the door open, wincing at how its hinges whined. She could only guess that he'd tried to close it behind him, but the rusted joints had probably allowed the door to swing but so far.

Well, no point in being delicate about it now. Clearing her throat and steeling her nerves, she stepped inside, hyper-aware of her footfalls against the creaking dark-wood floorboards.

There were items still in display cases, just barely visible under a thick settling of grey-white dust. Long-forgotten wizarding artefacts stood propped against the walls; amulets and medallions she felt certain carried curses just by looking at them dangled from metal racks over the front counter.

As Rose neared the backroom of the shop, she opened her mouth to call his name, but a thudding sound cut her off. Her eyes widened as a thought struck.

_What if that's _not _Scorpius?_

Instinctively reaching for her wand, she looked for the nearest cover. Uncle Harry had personally instructed her—not in proper dueling, no, Mum had managed that quite well—in how to handle a wand in a _real_ fight.

She sidestepped immediately, ducking down behind a massive, antique standing globe. At any other time, she'd have taken up her mother's habit and marveled over the layout of Wizarding countries across the cracked and dulled sepia surface, and the intricate renderings of sea monsters in the vast oceans, the likes of which Muggles believed as myths.

But at the moment, she was far too distracted with focusing on the footsteps drawing nearer and the rush of blood as her fingers went cold.

Something crashed to the floor and she jumped to her feet, wand aimed to strike.

Grey eyes widened immediately, showing white all around. Dark eyebrows shot upward in surprise, disappearing beneath a fringe of pale bangs as fair-skinned, elegant hands went up in a sign of surrender.

"Merlin's Beard, Malfoy!" Letting out a rattling breath, she allowed her arm to fall to her side, pocketing her wand. She shook her fingers this way and that, trying to restore sensation to her adrenaline-chilled extremities. "You frightened me!"

He dropped his hands, but his eyebrows remained raised and his jaw fell open. "_I_ frightened _you_?"

Scorpius felt his heart rattling around in his ribcage. Though, he didn't know if the moment she allowed him to collect himself was because she was being gracious, and was a little more startled than she'd let on by this incident, or if she was allowing herself time to inwardly laugh at him.

He'd had a hunch Rose was probably going to catch up to him at some point. One of his biggest irritations with her was how observant she was. He knew she'd realize he was missing immediately, but he hoped he'd at least have managed to duck far enough into Knockturn Alley that she wouldn't have turned to look until he was fully out of sight.

All he'd wanted was the freedom to poke about the abandoned shop for a few moments. Not that he'd looked forward to returning to a fuming Rose Weasley in the main section of Diagon Alley, but he had thought that if this could put his mind at ease, then her grousing at him all the way back to Hogwarts would be a small price to pay.

Of course, he'd certainly not expected to exit the backroom and have her pop out, her blue eyes blazing and her wand aimed straight at him. It would have been comical the way her long, wild mane of red hair flew around her—as though to purposely exaggerate the mad witch appearance—if not for how poised she appeared, and how steady her hand in the face of assumed danger.

He'd never had much opinion of her cousin Albus Potter—the son of the Chosen One spent too much time on trying to banish the dark stains that still sullied Slytherin House's reputation, rather than focusing on spell casting and wand work. Equally, however, Scorpius never doubted that Rose Weasley was a force to be reckoned with.

And at least the girl had a sense of style, even if she did favor Muggle attire. A blue V-neck shirt beneath her trendy little faux-leather jacket complimented her fiery hair, matched her Ravenclaw scarf, _and_ brought out her eyes, while the black pencil skirt and tiny ankle-high boots she wore showed a figure her Hogwarts robes could never possibly hint at.

It was more than he could say from some of her cousins. Except that Veela one who'd been a few years ahead of them, but . . . . Well, _Veela _said it all, didn't it?

After a short while of the two looking everywhere but at one another, Rose bit her lip and chanced a step toward him.

For the briefest second, he thought it strange that she approached as though she expected him to bolt like a frightened child. But then she opened her mouth to speak, stealing his opportunity to really think on it.

"What are you doing in here, Malfoy?"

He arched a brow. "How is that any of your business, Weasley?"

Rose squared her shoulders and stood straight, trying to look taller. It didn't help much, as he still had a good ten centimeters on her. His turtleneck, double-breasted jacket and trousers accentuated his lean frame—all black, of course, because Malfoys were allergic to colored fabrics, apparently—making him appear taller, still.

"Because we were sent out here on a specific task. If we take a suspiciously long time getting back because of _you_, then it'll reflect poorly on _both_ of us." She nearly recoiled at how much she'd just sounded like her mother.

Scorpius looked thoroughly unimpressed with such a pragmatic and personality-less response.

"Okay, fine. Look, it's hardly as though you and I are friends, but . . . ." She bit her lip as she looked about, her eyes huge. "I know what happened in here. I can't understand why—"

"What do you mean you know?" His expression hardened into a scowl.

Her eyebrows arched upward and her shoulders slumped as she held his icy gaze. "I know this is where your father became a Death Eater."

What little color was in his cheeks drained and his face fell. "Does everyone know?"

She shook her head, risking another tiny step closer. "I don't think so. It's just . . . I've heard my parents talk about it. Apparently, they and my Uncle Harry saw your father in here under particular circumstances, and just put two and two together."

Rose didn't know why she kept edging closer to him, only that she felt like she should reach out to him. Perhaps it was because of her awareness that her own father hadn't always shown himself the most upstanding. He'd turned his back on Uncle Harry during the start of the Triwizard Tournament, and had stormed away like a petulant child during the search for Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Yes, he'd returned, but that he'd let the bloody Horcrux get to him, that he'd let it sour his mind and heart toward the two people who'd cared for him—and _needed _him—most always troubled her.

If _her_ father could have darkness in his heart, then _anyone_ could. Maybe Scorpius didn't realize he wasn't alone when it came to regretting decisions for which he wasn't responsible.

Perhaps that was why she tried to be so close with her dad—so he'd never forget that she was someone who needed him. She bit back a sigh. This was hardly a time for her own ruminations, but maybe that was why she was blaming her mother for the divorce, because she simply couldn't find it in herself to blame her father. Not when she secretly feared he might latch onto that anger and use it as an excuse to push her away.

Maybe she _was_ being unfair to her mother, after all. She wished there was some way to make Mum understand her true feelings without worry that she might damage her bond with her father. But her fear kept her from redirecting any of her soured emotions just now, so she focused on what Scorpius was saying.

"Look, my father doesn't talk about it, ever. I only heard the story from my grandmother. I just wanted to see the place, is all. Maybe . . . ." Stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets, he shrugged. "Maybe try to understand how he must've felt at that moment."

She surprised him by nodding, her expression soft and comprehending. "I get it, honestly. Everyone wishes they could walk in another person's shoes if it'd help them to understand a difficult decision, but . . . ." Rose paused, trying to think through her words carefully. Lucky for her, he seemed to have no desire to hurry her along.

Maybe he _wanted _someone to talk to about this.

"But that was such a different time, and your father was dealing with so much darkness. Even my mother says so, and we both know it's like a sign of the apocalypse for her to say something in his defense."

Scorpius snorted, shaking his head.

She brightened a little. At least she'd gotten a smile out of him, that was something. "I don't really know that there's any way you'd ever be able to truly understand what he was going through back then."

Leaning back against one of the shop counters, he lifted a hand to rake his fingers through his hair. "You're right. I know that, but I just thought maybe I might be able to imagine it."

Rose's mouth dropped open, words tumbling out sooner than she could stop them. "You haven't forgiven him for it. A decision he made under extreme duress when he was a year _younger_ than we are now, and you hold it against him?"

Sinking his teeth hard into his bottom lip, he met her gaze. Again, she was right, of course she was. But it wasn't only that which he didn't understand about his father's choices. Though he was hardly going to discuss his parents' divorce with _her_.

This conversation had already gotten more personal than he cared to acknowledge.

"Yes, well, no way will my father and I ever understand one another, I suppose." Pushing off from the counter, he started for the door. "C'mon, then, let's get to that bloody list."

Nodding, though she couldn't help feeling bad that he'd shut down so fast, she turned to follow him out.

A bang sounded from the upper level of the shop and they both froze. They turned as one to look up at the winding staircase, leading to a darkened second floor.

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><p>Hermione pressed a palm to her temple, feeling dizzy suddenly. Shaking her head—the motion slow and delicate so as not to make herself any dizzier—she carefully made her way toward the sofa and lowered herself to sit.<p>

* * *

><p>Draco's hands trembled, the copy of The Daily Prophet he'd been reading dropping from his fingers. He blinked hard and his gaze leapt about the room, but it was little help. His vision blurred suddenly and his head was swimming.<p>

* * *

><p>Rose's fingers itched with the instinct to reach for her wand. "Do you think someone's up there?"<p>

Scorpius shook his head. "Doubtful. This building's construction is paper-thin; we'd have heard them before now if they'd so much as breathed too hard."

Her eyes narrowed as she strained to listen. When no more sounds followed, Scorpius latched a hand around her wrist.

"Probably a gust through a broken window knocked something over. Let's go."

She dug in her heels, forcing him to a halt. "No, we have to go check what that was."

Grey eyes rolling, he turned to look at her. "Why?"

"Because of _where_ we are." Stepping close to him, she dropped her voice low, trying to impress upon him the seriousness of the matter. "What if by coming in here when the place has been abandoned for so long, we somehow triggered a Dark artefact that's tucked away up there? If that's so, we can't just leave it! We have to find out so we can either fix it, or tell someone."

She had a point, he realized._ And_ he always had been curious about the Dark magical items his parents tried to pretend didn't exist. For _his_ sake, they said. What rubbish.

Releasing her wrist, he stepped around her. A smirk curved his lips as he headed for the staircase.

Catching his borderline-delighted expression, she couldn't help but frown. "This isn't _supposed_ to be fun, Scorpius," she said through clenched teeth as she trailed after him.

He caught her gaze over his shoulder. "Yeah, but it _is_, isn't it?" Winking at her, he drew his wand and started up the stairs.

Uncertain how to respond, she only shook her head. Drawing her wand, as well, she moved along behind him, her gaze fixed on the darkened floor above them.


	2. Disruption

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: Stating here that I tried looking up the headmaster/head matron/headmistress who succeeded Minerva McGonagall (who held the post officially from 1998 to sometime between 2011 & 2017), and cannot find a name given to this character. So we're going to play the "Freya Inserts an OC at Random" game!**

**And yes, Scorpius has a little Severus Snape-inspired moment.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>My other<strong> **_HP_** **Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered_(Dramione [**one-shot**, lemon])

_Dame Blanche_ (Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry [PwP; _**only**_**on AFF. net**])

**NEW! **_Eros_ ([DARK AU] Scorose)

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact_(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism_(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _**only**_**on AFF. net**])

_Mortality_ ([AU] Dramione])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor_ (Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood_([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_The Lestrange Girl _([AU] Dramione)

_The Meekdragon Legacy_ (Dramione [possible Harmione])

_Tourniquet_(Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

_Wizard Theory_([AU] Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Disruption

"I really don't have a good feeling about this," Rose said quietly, holding her illuminated wand over her head as she followed Scorpius onto the terrifyingly creaking floorboards of the upper level.

Honestly, they'd be lucky if the wood didn't give out from under them.

Halting in his tracks, nearly causing her to smack right into him, he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. Arching a brow, he asked, "Why are you whispering?"

"Um . . . ." Was it an effect of the wand light, or was Scorpius Malfoy actually cute? Rose's shoulders drooped at the downright annoying observation. "I dunno," she said, shaking her head as she darted her gaze about the dim space. "Just sort of . . . feels appropriate."

He laughed and turned his attention forward again. "Well, stop it, you're making me nervous."

Biting her lip, she looked around.

"If only we could find a—"

She used a trick her mother taught her, blowing on the tip of her wand like it was a candle, she sent the point of light to the center of the room. It lifted, hovering toward the ceiling and expanding to send a wash of illumination across the floor.

"Lantern, or something," Scorpius finished dully. Despite his tone, she could see from the lift of his eyebrows and the set of his jaw that he was impressed.

He cleared his throat, satisfied that no incredibly quiet and stealthy dark wizards were going to pop out at them. Relaxing the set of his shoulders, he pivoted on a heel to face her.

"And anyway, this was _your_ idea, Ravenclaw." He fussed with one end of her scarf as he said her House name.

Her expression souring, she swatted at his hand. Was he always like this and she'd simply never noticed because they'd never been in one another's company outside classes?

"What choice have we? We may have disturbed something, we need to look. If it's nothing, I'm wrong and . . . you can hold that over my head all the way back to Hogwarts."

He smirked, casting his glance along the floor. Papers and statues and boxes of all sort lay strewn about the place.

"Looks like someone unbottled a storm in here," she said, her voice closer than it'd been a moment ago.

Rose had stepped up beside him, looking about, at well, though he noticed she hadn't eased her grip on her wand at all. So she _was_ brave, after all. After her family's history with Dark artefacts, he'd half-expected her to have ducked behind him and peek out from around his shoulder, or something.

"Well, then, this proves my point, doesn't it?"

She furrowed her brow as she turned her head to look up at him. "What are you talking about?"

Frowning, he reached over and cupped a hand under her chin, guiding her to look about the room. "Broken windows, stuff all over the place. Two and a half decades of wind blowing things off tables and shelves. Get it?"

She swatted at his hand again and swiveled around to face him directly. "What has gotten into you? First it's grabbing my arm downstairs, now it's playing with my scarf, and touching my face."

Scorpius arched a brow. She was kind of cute when she was all pink-faced and feisty. "Oh, been keeping track have you?"

She pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nostrils before managing a word—why did it seem like he was having fun playing with her right now? "Why do you keep touching me?"

That smirk grew into a wicked half-grin, and he took half a step closer to her. "Why does it bother you so much?"

The color in her cheeks deepened and she backpedaled. "Maybe I just . . . don't like being touched."

He bit his lip. "Maybe I just always mess with pretty redheads who need to be taken down a peg."

Rose's jaw dropped open, but she shook her head, refusing to acknowledge that he'd just called her _pretty_. "I need no such thing, and even if I did, it would likely require more than you're capable of."

"Is that a challenge?"

Again, she backpedaled, uncertain what to say. Why did he keep coming closer? And why wasn't she doing anything more than simply edging back from him?

"Never mind," she said, forcing the words as she dropped her head and called the light back into her wand. "_Nox_. This was silly, I should have realized it was nothing. Let's just go."

She stepped around him, and he turned to follow her, his shoulders slumping. "Weasley—"

The sound of something scraping under his shoe cut short his words.

Wincing, he moved his foot aside and delicately set it down. "_Lumos_."

Rose lowered carefully onto one knee to examine what he'd stepped on in the half-light. A matched pair of silver necklaces stared back at her. "Look at these."

Scorpius tipped his head to one side as he knelt across from her, holding his wand toward the jewelry pieces. The simple chains bore small, blue stone discs with a raised design in the center, half-worn away by time. "What do you think that shape is?"

Grabbing his wrist, she pulled his wand closer to them. She moved his hand this way and that, trying to shine the light over them from different angles. "Can't be sure."

Momentarily side-tracked from his own examination, he watched her face in the shifting illumination. "Pardon me, but weren't you all _will you stop touching me_ about two seconds ago?"

"Igniting both our wands right now would be overkill, and flooding the light might actually make it_ more_ difficult to discern details, not less." Certainly, she _sounded_ like it had been a purposeful, thought-out action. But she'd simply acted on an impulse.

He reached for one with his free hand, and she caught it in her own, her fingers closing over his. Scorpius tried to hold in the quip forming on his lips, but couldn't help himself. Feigning a scandalized look, he shook his head at her. "Again with the touching."

Giggling in spite of herself, she shook her head right back. "Will you stop? Seriously, look at _where_ we found these and you're just going to pick one up?"

"They're useless, can't you feel it? There's _nothing_ in them."

"We have no way of knowing that for certain."

Scowling, he said in a irritated tone, "Sorry, which one of us is studying to be the future Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

He had a point. She hated him for having a point, but there it was. Nodding, she relinquished her hold on his hands. "Fine, then. Go on."

Clearing his throat, he pointed his wand at the necklaces. Willing any shades or lurking spirits attached to the items to come forward, he affected a commanding pitch. "Reveal your secrets."

Rose shivered a bit, her gaze drifting from his face to the necklaces, and back. She refused to acknowledge that there was simply _something_ about hearing his voice all forceful and gravelly like that. She braced herself, pulling back and cringing as she waited.

* * *

><p>Hermione tried to stand, but her legs gave out from under her. Everything went black before she even hit the floor.<p>

* * *

><p>Tolly entered the room just as Draco collapsed, catching his master unsteadily. Struggling under the weight, the panicked house elf shouted through the Manor for aid.<p>

* * *

><p>When nothing came, Scorpius chuckled and lowered his wand. "Honestly, what did you think they were going to do? Explode?"<p>

Puffing her cheeks as she let a harsh breath rattle out, she scowled at him. "How'm I supposed to know? I was half-expecting some angry dark spirit to come racing out at us."

"Oh, sure. I get a wand in my face, but a spirit and you back away?"

"You're a physical being I can _harm_ with my wand."

His eyebrows drew together at the simplicity of the thought. "Oh, fair enough." He gave a sideways nod. "Well, anyway, once again,_ I_ was right. They're perfectly harmless."

To prove his point, he picked one up. Rose repressed the urge to recoil, but again, nothing happened.

"Okay," she said, meeting his gaze over the top of his hand. "Then what're they doing _here_?"

He shrugged as he gestured around the room. "There's a workbench or two, maybe they _were_ meant to be something, but with everything that happened, no one ever got a chance to do anything with them."

She made a thoughtful sound. "That actually makes sense."

"I do have my moments."

A sigh escaped her as she fought to hold in a smile. His wistful tone made it difficult, though.

Scorpius took the other one and held it out to her. When she only arched a brow at him, he rolled his eyes. "C'mon. It won't hurt you."

"Why would I want it?"

"Think of it as a souvenir of this little adventure today."

She narrowed her eyes, forcing her expression to remain unimpressed as she looked from him, to the necklace, and back.

Biting his lip, he tried again. "It goes with your eyes?"

Unable to help a half-smile from peeking through, she reached for the stupid, lifeless pendant. Instead, she pressed her hand over his, lowering it back to the floor. "Please, can we just leave them here?"

"All right, fine," he said stubbornly, dropping them back where they were. "Still, might've been cute."

She stood, dusting herself off before she turned and began leading the way down the stairs. "You realize we would have had matching pendants?"

"We still could." He pocketed his wand, and shrugged. "Plenty of shops in Diagon Alley where _nothing_ is potentially cursed."

"Careful, Malfoy," she said, though she couldn't stop from tossing a grin over her shoulder. "Keep trying to give me jewelry and I may have to change my opinion of you."

He smirked as he once more asked, "Is that a challenge?"

* * *

><p>Ron pushed open the door. He knew Hermione would hate that he was using his keys rather than knocking and waiting for her to let him in, but it was chilly in this part of Britain right now, and the coffees he'd brought were starting to burn his hands.<p>

"'Mione?" he called as he stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him. Today they were supposed to broach the awkward subject of what to do about Hugo's living arrangements when he wasn't at school. Rose would be eighteen in a week, she could make her own decision on the matter.

"Hope I'm not too early." He dropped his gaze to carefully deposit his keys back into his pocket as he managed the coffees in one hand. "Listen, I've been thinking that maybe we shouldn't discuss this without Hugo. He's old enough to . . . ." Ron looked up, the words dying on his lips as he saw his ex-wife sprawled on the floor.

* * *

><p>Astoria fretted and tsked, wringing her hands as they settled Draco in one of the rooms at St. Mungo's.<p>

"Mrs. Malfoy—"

"Please," she said softly, cutting off the Healer. "It's Miss Greengrass, now."

The older woman nodded, reaching out to pat Astoria's hand comfortingly. "Preliminary examine showed that he's fine."

"But he won't wake. His servant said he just dropped. That's not normal!"

The Healer gestured toward a bench where two men sat, though Astoria didn't really take notice of them. "Perhaps not, but as far as we can divine, there is nothing actually wrong with him. He's slumbering very deeply, but otherwise in perfect health. Please try to be patient, we should have a more detailed report for you soon."

Biting her bottom lip hard to hold in an angry groan, the dark-haired witch spun on her heel and sat down.

"Astoria?"

She looked up, finding the two men looking at her—one ginger-haired, and the other with black, unruly hair, and wire-rim glasses. She realized she recognized them, but who wouldn't with the lightning bolt scar on the black-haired wizard's forehead?

"Harry Potter, and . . . I'm sorry, Ron Weasley, yes?"

They both nodded. Neither quite knew what to say at overhearing her correct the Healer with her maiden name.

Harry spoke first, "You're here because something happened to Draco?"

She nodded, lowering her gaze. "I don't even know what happened, one of his house elves came to fetch me. Said there was an emergency at Malfoy Manor, and he was just . . . unconscious."

Harry and Ron exchanged a worried glance.

Astoria arched a brow. "What? What's that look?"

Ron opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again, shaking his head.

Harry rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Same thing happened to Hermione."

Her eyebrows shot up and she said in a low voice, "Same thing? Do you think it could be connected."

Exchanging another look, Harry and Ron both shook their heads. Astoria felt her heart sink as Ron said, "Don't see how. But we should mention it to the Healer, anyway."

She nodded, trying to find comfort in the encouraging smile he gave her.

* * *

><p>Rose stretched, rubbing her eyes as she pulled back her quilt. She nearly jumped at the sight of one of the pendants from Borgin and Burkes staring up at her from the middle of the bed.<p>

Her expression soured instantly as she picked it up and set it on her bedside table. To think, she'd actually believed Scorpius was being nice to her. He'd probably pocketed the necklaces when she wasn't looking and thought this a brilliant prank.

Whatever the case, it had been too long a day and she was_ far_ too tired to deal with his nonsense right now. Shaking her head, she climbed under her covers and settled down to sleep.

* * *

><p>Turning over in bed as he tried to get comfortable, Scorpius slid a hand under his pillow. His fingers met something cold and metallic. Immediately he snatched back his arm and sat up.<p>

He lifted the pillow, his shoulders slumping as he saw one of the blue pendants. Eyes narrowing, he picked it up and set it aside. Damn Weasley, probably found a way to sneak it in here, hoping to spook him. Teach him a lesson for scaring her earlier that day.

Not that he minded the idea of finding Rose Weasley sneaking into his dorm room, but the circumstances could be better.

Frowning and laughing at himself at the same time, he crawled back beneath his covers and tried not to think about pretty redheaded Ravenclaw girls as he drifted back into slumber.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke, stretching slowly. Until she blinked open her eyes to a scene she hadn't viewed in so very long—sunlight glinting off the canopy of a four-post bed at Hogwarts. Bolting up in bed, she threw aside her blankets and hurried across the room to one of the vanity bureaus. Her unrecognizable dorm-mates still snoozed peacefully.<p>

The face looked just like hers at say seventeen, sure, but . . . . She ran shaking fingers over hair that was like hers in length and texture, but _red_. And the wide eyes staring back at her were _blue_, not brown.

Tears watered in those blue eyes as she whispered, "Rose, what have you done?"

The door opened suddenly, and she whirled, instinctively groping for a wand that wasn't within reach. A sweet-faced, pudgy thing of a professor stood in the entryway, rather reminding her of a plump little owl. "Miss Weasley, good, you're already up. Could you come with me, please?"

Hermione's lips trembled as she forced her mouth to work. "Now, but it's so—so early." She hated to think her daughter might've been toying with some sort of dark magic, but she could think of nothing else to explain what was happening to her.

And she'd nearly fallen over at the sound of Rose's voice in her ears as she'd spoken.

"It's quite urgent."

Nodding reluctantly, Hermione hung her head as she spared a minute to shrug on a dressing gown over her nightclothes and shove her feet into a pair of slippers. As she followed the professor out of the Ravenclaw dorms—she didn't know their password, how was she going to get back in—she mulled over her situation. If this was some body-swapping catastrophe, then she simply needed to get a hold of Rose . . . well, _herself_, find out what she'd done and reverse it.

No problem!

No, what concerned Hermione was not letting anyone on to the mix-up in the meanwhile, or Rose's graduation from Hogwarts could be in jeopardy. She would not allow her daughter to be expelled a handful of months from completion! It could ruin her entire future.

She was lead into the headmaster's office, and was delighted to see it hadn't changed since she'd been there, except that now McGonagall's portrait hung beside Dumbledore's. As she neared the desk, she saw someone else occupied one of the seats.

And he was the spitting image of Draco Malfoy during their last years at Hogwarts. _Scorpius_, she thought quickly, stymieing herself from blurting out the wrong name. But the look on his face . . . he looked as shell-shocked as she felt. She wondered what that could mean.

"Now. I'm sorry to call you both here at the same time, you will likely both think these are personal family matters which should be discussed privately." The owlish professor came around the desk and sat, looking up at them both. "Unfortunately, that may not be the case at all."

Hermione exchanged a look with an increasingly sour-faced Malfoy—apparently that expression ran in their family.

"Do you know of anything that might have occurred recently between your parents? Specifically your father, Mr. Malfoy, and your mother, Miss Weasley?"

They both simply stared at the headmistress, dumbstruck.

She pursed her lips. "Hmm, I'd thought not."

"What's happened?" Scorpius asked, his tone cautious.

"This may be hard to hear. They have fallen into comas, cause unknown, but circumstances quite similar." She allowed them a moment to absorb that. "The Healers of St. Mungo's have reason to believe there may be a connection. I knew it was a long shot asking if you had any insights, but just now we're looking for _anything_ which might help."

"They're all right though, aren't they?"

The older witch nodded, her expression compassionate. "Yes, they seem so. They simply won't wake."

Hermione felt her legs go numb, but forced herself to remain standing. If Rose wasn't in _her_ body, than where was she?

* * *

><p><span><strong>My Regular Readers<strong>**: As my original fic list will soon start its update cycle (finally), but hectic home life makes an actual, **_**set**_** schedule nigh impossible, I'm considering taking one readers suggestion and starting a mailing list to keep those interested more actively informed of what is updating next, or any delays to updating the fics overall (i.e.: rl crisis striking). If you'd like to be added to the mailing list, you can PM me your email address, or mention in your review that you'd like to be included,** and** I'll PM you to request it from you :)**

**Regardless, I will list the order in which the fics will be updated on my profile page, and note the most recent date under each fic, so one can just reference that to see which is updating next.**

**New Readers****: "Did she**_** really**_** just say she's putting together a mailing list?" Yes, I did. I swear to you, I'm not full of myself or my stories like that, it's just that I have an ungodly amount of fics all running at once (seriously, there's like 13 of them). I just thought this one reader who reached out to me had a point; I have so many fics, and without a set schedule, it would be easier for those who enjoy my stories to know what to expect, and when, rather than having to hu—nt down my profile page and sift through dates & titles :/.**

**Everyone****: I have started a secondary writing profile, Krystal-Freya. It's a joint account with my FF critique partner, krystalMage. Solely collaborative works will be posted there (such as our upcoming Scorlily/RosexMalfoyOC fic **_**The Lost Heir**_**) my individual works will remain with me, as krystal's works will remain with her.**


	3. Distanced

**Notes****: 1) Playing off the description from the previous chapter, I named the headmistress Professor **_**Micrathene**_**, which is a species of owl (because the other option for fitting the wording I'd used was the pulsatrix . . . which sounded way too much like Bellatrix, so . . . yeah XD).**

**2) So you all have a heads up, another plunnie has been nibbling. I'm going to try to delay starting it 'til after I've kicked off the update cycle of the current fic list. Working Title:**_**Nights in Paris**_**. No connection the story in **_**Nights at Malfoy Manor**_**.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>My other <strong>_**HP **_**Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered_(Dramione [**one-shot**, lemon])

_Dame Blanche_ (Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry [PwP; **_only _****on AFF. net**])

_Eros_ ([DARK AU] Scorose)

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact_(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism_(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; **_only _****on AFF. net**])

_Mortality_ ([AU] Dramione])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor_ (Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood_([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_The Lestrange Girl_ ([AU] Dramione)

_The Meekdragon Legacy_ (Dramione [possible Harmione])

_Tourniquet_(Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

_Wizard Theory_([AU] Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Distanced

Hermione bit her lip, her fingers twisting in the sleeves of her dressing gown nervously. She was trying to understand. Rose _had_ to be in her body; maybe whatever she'd done was simply having a harsher effect on her, as the caster. Yes, that had to be it! _Had_ to be. All she needed was to be patient and wait for Rose . . . well, for herself to wake up. Couldn't be more than a few hours, could it?

Between her brains and her daughter's, they'd be able to sort this in no time, and none would be the wiser. What Hermione couldn't figure out was why Draco was affected. Rose and Scorpius didn't even associate with one another, expect to exchange snarling insults. The idea that they could somehow _both_ be involved in this seemed preposterous.

She felt incredibly awkward as the headmistress—Professor Micrathene, Hermione heard the name as McGonagall's and Dumbledore's portraits addressed the woman while expressing concern for their former students' well-being—politely ushered her from the room, right alongside Scorpius Malfoy.

They were squeezed through the doorway and down the spiraling lift practically shoulder-to-shoulder, or rather shoulder-to-upper arm, as she found Rose shorter than him. She imaged the height-difference was rather similar to the one between her real self and his father. As soon as they were out in the corridor, the two just about leaped away from one another.

She turned to look at him, intent on asking if he actually did know anything about the situation—any extra information she might glean to help make sense of whatever mess her daughter had wrought—but as she lifted her gaze to his face, the words died on her lips. His resemblance to Draco up-close was startling to someone who knew what he'd looked like at eighteen. His hair was a bit longer, hanging into his eyes, and shaggy over his ears and the collar of his night shirt, but still . . . .

Instead of asking him for information he might not have been comfortable sharing with the headmistress, she found herself saying, "You look exactly like your f—" Eyes widening, she clamped her lips shut. How would Rose know _just_ how striking the resemblance was?

Clearing her throat and dropping her gaze, she missed the flash of recognition across Scorpius' face. "Never mind, I'm half-asleep and in shock, I guess. Don't—don't know what I'm saying. Well, um, see you in class."

He could only watch as she turned and began walking away. Arching a brow, he stuffed his fists in the pockets of his dressing gown. "Aren't you headed the wrong way for _Ravenclaw_ Tower?"

Hermione stopped short, her shoulders bunching and her teeth biting hard into her bottom lip. He was right. Old habits died hard, she supposed, as she realized she was making a beeline for the Gryffindor dormitories.

She managed a sheepish giggle and shrugged, but refused to look back at him. If he knew Rose as well as Draco had known her—and one often understood people they hated better than people they liked—he might spot something off about her expression as she spoke.

"Um, like I said," she paused to fake an audible yawn, "still half-asleep."

Hermione winced as she heard his footfalls, bringing him closer to her. Still, she didn't dare look at him.

"You are a terrible liar," he said in a whisper, his voice just loud enough for her to hear, despite that the corridor was empty so very early in the morning. "Get your act together, Granger, before you get us caught."

She spun on her heel, staring up at him—and a little surprised to find him standing so close, suddenly. Her gaze shifting to take in his features once again before meeting his eyes, she whispered, "Draco?"

His shoulders sagged as relief swept through him and he cracked a bewildered half-grin, nodding. "Honestly, don't know how I'd have played that off if I'd been wrong."

In that instant, Hermione was so glad to see she wasn't alone in this madness. With no thought as to her actions, she stood on her toes and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him.

He didn't know what surprised him more—that Hermione Granger was hugging him, or that he found himself hugging her back. He supposed he was just too grateful for some familiar element to cling to in a chaotic moment.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said, though she didn't relinquish her hold. "I just . . . I think I just feel a little lost, right now."

Draco squirmed a little, suddenly awkward as he felt her breath warm against the side of his throat; especially with how she was pressed to him. Being young again had its disadvantages.

"Uh, Granger?" He tried to think of the most delicate way to put things. "I don't know how well you remember having a teenage body, but you're going to want to let go of me in about two seconds."

Hermione almost didn't understand what he meant . . . until he'd turned his head in mid-sentence, his lips coming _so_ very close to brushing her ear as he whispered his words. A blush flaring in her cheeks, she sprang back from him and clasped her hands behind herself.

"Oops," she said with an embarrassed half-grin.

He wanted to take a moment, to catch a breath and grouse about their predicament. But he knew they might not have the luxury of time. "Okay, so if you and I are here, but you and I are also in co—"

Clearly forgetting the unfortunate closeness of only a few seconds ago, she shot forward again, clamping her fingers over his lips.

He narrowed his eyes, scowling at her over the top of her hand.

"Are you forgetting where we are? This is Hogwarts, there are ears everywhere! It's one thing to call each other by the wrong names, but do you really think it's wise to stand out here and discuss what's going on?"

Her barely audible words rang true—after all, why else were they both instinctively holding this chat in whispers?

He grasped her hand in his and pulled it from his mouth. "Okay, then we need an actual place where we can figure this out, whatever that's going to take, and set it right." Stepping closer, he dropped his voice lower, still, his gaze searching hers, "If we're here, then they should be where we are and they're not. We _need_ to get our children back."

Hermione swallowed hard as she stared up at him. Thank God he understood the problem without her having to say it. She never had given him enough credit for his intellect when they'd been in Hogwarts the _first time_ around.

As strange as it seemed, she thought perhaps there was no better person with whom to be stuck in this situation.

"C'mon," she said, turning on a heel and using his hand still on hers to tug him along behind her. "This calls for summoning the Room of Requirement."

* * *

><p>Rose sat up slowly, her palm pressed to her aching forehead. "Oh, Merlin's beard . . . ." She hadn't felt this miserable since the morning after that holiday party, when she'd sneaked a few more flutes of champagne than her parents had noticed.<p>

Looking about through groggy, bleary eyes, she found herself sitting on a floor of dull, but pristine grey-white tiles. Furrowing her brow, she pushed up to stand. She was in her nightclothes, so . . . had she sleepwalked?

"Where am I?"

Quiet voices nearby drew her attention and she looked up from the mysterious floor beneath her bare feet. A few people stood beside a hospital bed, holding hushed conversation.

All right, so she was in St. Mungo's; at least now she had a location. She still hadn't the foggiest idea how she got here, or why her being on passed out on the floor hadn't alarmed anyone.

Brow furrowing, she moved closer to the bed. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her, she thought, as the talkers seemed to have a faint glow about them. She came up on the other side, mouth opening to ask the people standing—whom she guessed were healers—what had happened.

Yet her first glimpse of the patient in the bed stopped her cold.

"Mum?"

Rose blinked back tears as she stared into her mother's peaceful face. Swallowing hard, she tried again. "Mum?"

She was glowing, like the healers. Shaking her head, Rose focused, reaching to take Hermione's still hand in her own . . . and sinking right through it.

Gasping, she tried again, and again. "No, no, no! Mum? Mum!"

"Just lucky they were found," one healer was saying as Rose pulled her terrified gaze from Hermione's face to look at them. "Here, we can sustain them until they wake, whenever that is."

The other healer pursed her lips, tucking a bit of Hermione's wild hair behind her ear. "If they hadn't been?"

"Well, if they woke up soon, I assume they'd have been all right, but if not . . . they could've wasted away. They could actually sleep to death after a few days."

"I just still can't figure out a connection, she was found late yesterday morning, he was found last night," the gentle one said. "I mean, I was at Hogwarts with them, I can't imagine anything that would tie them together and cause her _and _Draco Malfoy to suffer the same affliction. Do you think it could be the start of some epidemic?"

_Scorpius' father, too?_

"Not likely. With how quickly this struck them, we'd have seen more sufferers by now."

She couldn't focus on their words anymore. Not as she looked down at her own hands—still uselessly scrabbling to grab her mother's—and noticed that _she _wasn't glowing. She looked to her mum and the healers, once more.

It was no trick of the light, they _were _giving off a faint light . . . and she wasn't.

"Oh my God," she whispered, a strange numbness washing through her as she pulled her arms in against her body and backpedaled.

"Please, please let this be a dream." Though even as she said that, the words, _I'm dead? No, please, I _can't _be dead!_ spun through her mind over and over again.

Her shoulders sagged as she fought a wash of terrified tears. She didn't feel the movement, yet all the same she found her body drifting, her legs carrying her to the doorway. Stumbling into the corridor, she leaned against the nearest wall and slid down, landing hard on her bum as she tried to make sense out of what was happening.

Further along the passage people milled about, all with that faint glow. She realized dully what that glimmer of light must be . . . . _Life_.

Her shoulders shook and she bit her lip as she tried to hold in a panicked sob. Eyes blurring with unshed tears, Rose pulled her legs in against her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Weasley?"

Gasping, she cast a frenzied glance about—she recognized that voice!

There, darting toward her was Scorpius Malfoy. He could _see_ her! Yet as he drew near, she noticed he wasn't glowing, either.

He dropped down in front of her, eyes wide and searching, as though he couldn't believe she was in front of him. Reaching out, he stroked her hair with trembling fingers before cupping her face in his hands.

"Merlin, you're _really _here! I can touch you!"

Shaking her head she blinked hard, forcing a few trapped tears free, and covered his hands with her own. "I don't understand what's happening."

"Neither do I," he said, mirroring her response. "I—I woke up on the floor in one of the rooms, and my _father_ is in the bed, unconscious."

"Same with my mother and me." She furrowed her brow, holding his gaze. "Do you remember how you got here?"

Again, he shook his head.

"Okay, okay," she said hurriedly, trying to think. "Last thing I remember is going to bed and . . . the pendant!" Her look of panic turned to one of anger in flash.

No sooner did Scorpius sort through his own final memories, than did he have a fiery Rose Weasley leaning forward to glare at him, her face so close to his he could feel her breath on his mouth.

"I told you! I _told_ you to leave those stupid bloody pendants where we found them, but you just had to grab them, didn't you?"

Blinking rapidly a few times as he processed the accusation, his mouth fell open in his attempt to form a reply. "Oy, hang on a minute! I did exactly what you asked. You _did_ say leave them and I _did_ as you said. I thought _you _found a way to get one without my notice to teach me a lesson."

Her expression softened, but she didn't move back from him. "Wait, you found one, too? Af—after we got back to Hogwarts?"

Scorpius nodded. "Under my pillow. Like it just—"

"Just appeared there," she finished for him in a whisper, a hollow spot of cold unwinding in the pit of her stomach. "So I guess they _weren't_ powerless, after all."

He frowned. "They were, I'm positive! Maybe . . . maybe something else was there that caused this."

Rose bit back her anger. Even if his meddling was responsible for this, there was no way he could have known anything like this would happen—neither of them could have. "All right. Let's say it was something else, maybe a lingering ghost that was there, or something. Doesn't matter what got us here at the moment, does it?"

"Not unless it's going to help us figure a way out, no."

"A way out?" She echoed the words, a hint of a smile gracing her lips suddenly. "You mean we're . . . we're not dead?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay, okay," she said, realizing in a heartbeat how close their faces were—how close they'd been for the entire conversation—and she shifted back a little as she collected herself. "How . . . how do you know?"

He climbed to his feet. Still clasping one of her hands in his own, he pulled her up with him. "C'mon, I'll show you."

They made their way down the corridor toward the intensive care wing. Rose decided instantly that she didn't like this part of the hospital. It looked . . . different—darker, and wrong in ways she couldn't quite put her finger on.

A figure appeared from one of the doorways and crept along past them. Pale, as though the color of its flesh and clothing had been washed out, and tinged with eerie unnatural shadows, just as the living were tinged with that faint glow.

She forced a gulp as she turned her head to watch the strange thing. It appeared to take no notice of them. "Is that a ghost? I mean, is that what they look like for . . . . Well . . . ."

"For us right now, you mean?"

She nodded.

"I think so. I think we're stuck in some weird, in-between place."

"So _our_ bodies could be in comas in the hospital wing at Hogwarts?"

Scorpius looked distressed as he tugged on her hand again, leading her back down toward their parents' rooms. "Maybe. I just want to know what's wrong with them. Do you think it's connected? What's happened to us and whatever's afflicting them?"

She shrugged and started to answer, but stopped short, her jaw going slack.

Brow furrowing, he followed her gaze. There stood _her _father, holding a cup and a small, cellophane-wrapped cake toward _his_ mother.

Grey eyes widening, he pulled her closer toward them so they might overhear the older pair's conversation.

* * *

><p>Astoria looked up from where she sat, still in that same place on the bench since ungodly o'clock that morning. She glanced from the offering to Ron's face and back, her expression questioning. "What's this?"<p>

He shrugged, looking about sheepishly. "Coffee and a pumpkin cake. You've not eaten all day, you need to put something in your stomach."

She arched a dark brow at him. "What if I didn't like pumpkin cake?"

Looking completely at a loss for a moment, he recovered, but just barely. "Well, I'd . . . think you were trying to be difficult because _everyone_ loves pumpkin cake. Unless they're allergic, of course. You're not, are you? Allergic I mean?"

A giggle erupted from her at his embarrassed stammering. Shielding her mouth with her hand, she collected herself, but remained smiling as she took the coffee and cake from his hands.

"No, I'm not, and I do like pumpkin cake. Thank you."

Heaving a visible sigh of relief, Ron sat down. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. "It's mind-numbing, isn't it? Just being here, waiting and hearing nothing. Barely getting a glance of acknowledgement from the healers. And I could even swear we went to school with one of them."

She nodded, blinking rapidly as she opened the coffee and blew on it before taking a testing sip. Nodding again, she said, "I've been telling myself it's because they're too busy helping Draco and Hermione to pay us much attention."

He slumped back in the bench so that they were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. "Right. You're—you're right, that's probably it."

Again she laughed, but the tone was much more somber this time. "No, you're kind to support my delusion, but I know it's rubbish. They haven't the foggiest notion what's going on."

Ron closed his eyes as he let out another sigh. "You could've left me two seconds to pretend, you know."

She smirked behind her cup. "Sorry. So, um, Harry, he said he'd take care of letting our children know? Any idea how they're taking the news?"

"He owled Hogwarts first thing this morning. I think even before the students were up for breakfast. Professor Micrathene get back to him, said Rose and Scorpius are both in shock, neither could seem to put two words together. You'd . . . I'm sorry, you'd fallen asleep sitting up when I came by earlier to tell you."

"Ah," she said, grinning. "Hence the coffee."

Smiling, but not opening his eyes, he nodded.

* * *

><p>Rose turned away and started wandering aimlessly, thoughtlessly dragging Scorpius with her. He could only watch as her gaze flickered about while she drifted down the corridor.<p>

"So our bodies are awake. We're _here_, my mum and your dad are _not_ . . . ."

"You're not saying what I think you're saying." He winced as he waited for her reply, though he already knew what it would be.

"I am. Maybe we were supposed to end up . . . I don't know how to put it, occupying them? And something went wrong?"

"Sounds _so_ weird, but okay, sort of makes sense," he said nodding. "Well, then it's simple, we get to Hogwarts and find a way to communicate with them. Between the four of us, we should be able to figure out how to undo . . . whatever it was we did."

"Are you sure we'll be _able_ to get through to them?"

He shrugged. "It's _Hogwarts_, there's probably something tucked away somewhere that can help."

Rose nodded as her eyebrows shot up. "Fair point."

Relieved to have found an actual purpose and more than eager to get their plan—simple and reliant on hope, though it was—underway, he started toward the hospital's main doors. She trailed behind him, her steps unsure suddenly as she thought . . . .

Frowning, she glanced back over her shoulders as they moved. She thought perhaps it was some weird energy transfer, like in those Muggle films Mum and Uncle Harry fancied, where disembodied entities could feel when another being passed through them.

No one—living or dead—was near them.

Of course, she should have realized that without having to look; she hadn't felt her mother's hands when she'd tried to take them. So then . . . she looked forward again, fixing her gaze on the double-doors coming into view a bit further along the corridor.

If she and Scorpius were so alone here, how could she have _so_ distinctly felt someone standing behind her, just now?


	4. Detached

**Next to Update****: ****_Eros_**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Detached

When he'd first seen her enter the headmistress' office, he found himself caught off-guard by how much the girl resembled her mother. But really, it wasn't until now—as he watched Granger pace anxiously, muttering to herself and constantly fidgeting and pushing her hands through her hair—that he truly saw the strength of that resemblance.

He imagined it wasn't so different from how she'd been on the verge of telling Scorpius that the young man looked just like his father.

He suddenly found himself sympathetic to Scorpius' constant grousing about the girl. After all, his own father Lucius had listened to enough of_ his _griping about Granger during their Hogwarts years for Draco to understand better, now.

Of course, this was a realization in hindsight and one that he'd curl up and die before admitting to the woman in front of him. She didn't need to know how much time he'd spent talking about her—context notwithstanding—back then.

Rather than thinking on what that must've meant about his anger toward Granger when they were growing up, he focused on what she'd said when they first closed the door to the Room of Requirement behind them.

It would probably help if they weren't both still in their nightclothes, but that was a whole other thing he wasn't going to think on right now.

"Dark magic?" He echoed the words, his eyebrows shooting up into Scorpius' overly-long bangs. Sighing, he swept them out of his eyes for the umpteenth time; honestly, how many times had he told the boy to get a bloody haircut!

Hermione bit her lip to hold in a laugh as she watched the angry gesture . . . _again_. If she were in a snarky mood, she might offer him a barrette—which, to her surprise, she'd found Rose kept a small collection of in the pocket of her dressing gown.

Well, her daughter was certainly braver than she. Hermione'd given up on anything more restrictive than bobby pins or elastic bands when she'd still been a child. After all, there were only so many hair accessories a girl could accidentally destroy before she got that hint that her locks refused to be tamed.

"Why don't you just take him for a haircut?"

From the start she gave he knew the scowl he offered her in reply was enough, but he spoke, anyway. "_Take _him for a haircut? He's no longer a child, Granger. I tell him again, and again—like _everything_, lately—but if he doesn't want to go, it's hardly as though I can force him."

Hermione nodded, sitting down in the desk beside the one he'd chosen—the Room had appeared as a small class room. They both guessed Hogwarts thought _that_ the best setting for them to figure out what was going on.

"Can't say I don't understand the feeling. Rose . . . ." She laughed and somehow, the sound ended in a sniffle. "She can be a right terror, sometimes. I love my daughter and I _know_ she loves me, but there are moments when it doesn't feel that way at all."

Draco's eyebrows drew together as he watched her face for a long moment; that face which was so much like hers, yet simply wasn't.

Cracking a grin in spite of herself, she asked, "What's that look for?"

He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the floor a moment as he shook his head. "No, nothing, sorry. Just . . . don't think I ever pictured the two of us sitting together, commiserating about the things our children put us through."

"I don't think I did, either."

Draco felt a strange urge and followed it, reaching out to tug at the edge of her dressing gown. "Certainly never pictured it while we were occupying their bodies."

Her shoulders slumped. "Right," she said her voice soft, and sad, and serious, again. "Back on topic. As I said, I can only conclude that this is the result of meddling with Dark magic."

"Granted, that makes sense, but . . . ." Draco frowned, shaking his head. "Of all the things I've heard or learned in my life, there's shape-shifting, mind reading, thought control, Polyjuice potion to assume someone else's form . . . ." Once more he shook his head, as he muttered, "I'm afraid I've never heard of body-swapping."

Hermione's shoulders drooped as she cast her gaze about the room. There was a time when she wouldn't have taken Draco Malfoy at his word if both their lives depended on it. But this was for Rose and Scorpius, and Draco had spent his adult life proving to the world that he was no longer the same young man with whom she'd grown up.

And—though she was hardly about to tell him so—she found that for some inexplicable reason, she simply _wanted _to believe he had it in him to be honest with her.

He shrugged. "Not that ever actually worked, anyway."

Her attention snagged on those hopelessly grumbled words. "Wait," she said, sitting up a little straighter, "what are you talking about?"

Brow furrowing, he met her gaze. "It has no bearing, as I just said it _never_ worked."

"So?" Without thinking, she caught one of his hands between both of hers. "It might not have, but it's a place to start, at least. That might be all we need."

He was rather obviously less than convinced—he was also ignoring how free she was with the way she put her hands on him so carelessly.

"Well . . . ." She forcefully dropped his hand and bounced up from her seat. Approaching the board, she grabbed the first bit of chalk within reach. "We've got to start _somewhere_, haven't we?"

His eyebrows shot up, once more causing him to impatiently sweep his bangs back from his forehead. He paid no attention to the way the gesture made her bite her lip—a clear attempt to hold in a giggle. Though he did appreciate that the Room's choice of setting was proving useful, after all.

"Fine," he said in a mildly irritated tone. "When I was younger, I heard of a wizard who worked for the Death Eaters during the first Wizarding War."

Nodding, she made a _go on _gesture.

"I think his name was . . . Okay," he said, shaking his head. "I don't recall his first name but the last was something like . . . Permuto, maybe? Yes, yes, that sounds right."

She pivoted on her heel to face the board and jotted down the name.

"He was working on a foolproof way to infiltrate groups like The Order of the Phoenix."

Brow furrowing, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "Groups _like_ The Order? You mean there were more of them than _just _The Order?"

Draco nodded, looking surprised that _she_ was surprised. "Sure, but I think they all failed, which is why no one's heard about them. Just don't ask me what any of them called themselves, I haven't the foggiest."

She nodded, letting out a breath from between pursed lips. "Okay, so . . . infiltration magic?" Hermione cringed a little as soon as the words left her lips. It just had an unpleasant, blasé ring to it.

Shrugging, he shook his head and sighed. "I suppose. Look, I don't know the whole story of what really happened, but I think some of the Death Eaters weren't pleased with either his level of work, or _what _he was working on."

As she wrote down the unpleasant, blasé term, she asked, "What made you believe so?"

"Because he turned up dead."

Hermione felt her spine stiffen. Once more looking at him over her shoulder, she echoed that last word."Dead?"

Draco gave a sideways nod. "The way I heard it, they just found him, tucked away in one of those little streets that branches off from Knockturn Alley."

She repressed a shudder at the mental image his statement conjured. "Okay." Refusing to let herself think this particular point had any bearing on their current situation, she jotted that down, as well.

"So," she said as she set down the chalk and started dusting off her hands, "we go to the Library and see what we can find on Permuto, himself, or this type of magic after classes."

"So this is the plan?" His eyebrows drew upward as he stood and walked up to her. "We're just going to go on, pretending to be our own children until we figure out how to fix this?"

She mirrored his expression—it was a terrible idea, but she didn't see what choice they had. "We don't know where Rose and Scorpius are. If this is some sort of soul, or body swap, then Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy shouldn't be _comatose_ in St. Mungo's, and you know that! But we also have just established that the only thing this sounds like is Dark magic."

Her shoulders slumped and she took a step closer to him, staring up into his angry, disbelieving face. "If this is Dark magic we're dealing with, and _anyone_ finds out, there's no telling how much trouble they could get into. It could ruin their futures."

Draco bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor. She was right. They had to keep this quiet, and they had to work fast. Which meant . . . . "Well, looks like Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy are about to become study partners."

She laughed, but the sound was cut off by a chime resonating from a misplaced-looking grandfather clock in a corner of the classroom.

"Classes will be starting shortly," she said, grimacing at the unexpected time-crunch. "Looks like we've just enough time to run back to our dormitories and change." She was a little grateful for this, as it meant she might have the luck of walking in while others were exiting—no password required. She'd simply make sure to approach Ravenclaw Tower with a group of her House-mates later and listen closely.

Hermione turned toward the door, but Draco caught her wrist and pulled back to face him.

Ginger eyebrows shooting up, she asked in an alarmed tone, "Draco, what is it?"

"Dark magic and my son is involved, but you didn't once try to place the blame on him."

Giving a shrug, she realized he was right—she hadn't even thought to point a finger at Scorpius _Malfoy_. "I have no reason to think he's responsible."

"You've got what you remember of me," he pointed out in a mystified voice.

She wasn't certain she understood why he was picking at this one issue. Shouldn't he simply be glad she wasn't unfairly blaming Scorpius?

"Draco Malfoy," she said, her voice soft, but sharp, "if I thought this was your fault, I'd blame _you_. And now that I say it that way, maybe someone was trying to curse you, but it backfired, and Rose, Scorpius and I just got caught in the middle, somehow."

He smirked and shook his head. "I wanted to say thank you for not assuming anything."

Her brows pulled together, but she smiled. "You're welcome."

The clock chimed again—a strangely more impatient sounding tone than the first time. She wondered if the Room wasn't actually getting irritated with them for not taking its first hint.

"Well," he said nodding, "see you in class, then."

* * *

><p>"Oh, you <em>must <em>be joking," Scorpius said in a hiss as he reached for the door and his fingers passed right through.

"What's the matter?" Rose asked, leaning to the side to peer around his arm.

"You're not going to believe this, but I can't touch the bloody door to open it."

She looked back down the corridor, toward the ward from which they'd come. "You know what? All the doors we've walked through so far were already open."

He gave her an impatient scowl. "Meaning?"

Biting her lip to hold in an irritated sound—how quickly they'd switched roles, first she'd been a sour mess, and now he was—she slid a hand around his elbow and pulled him away from the entrance. "Meaning maybe we just have to wait for someone who's physically _there_ to open the door?"

"Oh," he said, laughing at his own oversight. "Sorry, getting flustered, I suppose. Yes, that makes sense. Oy, this is going to be a _long_ journey to Hogwarts."

Rose nodded and let out a small, affirmative giggle.

The door swung open, making them both jump. One of the staff walked in, and the door was closing slowly behind them.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Scorpius stepped toward the door and was immediately thrown backward. The force of the impact sent him barreling into Rose. They both landed hard on the floor and slid.

After a few silent, jarring heartbeats, she finally managed a small, "Ow."

Giving his head a shake, he pulled himself to sit up and turned his attention to her. "You all right?"

"Mm hmm," she muttered the sound, letting him help her up. "Just . . . surprised."

They looked toward the door. "What the bloody hell was that?" she asked, bewildered and perhaps a little terrified.

"I think that was a rather large hiccup in our grand _Get to Hogwarts_ scheme."

She let out a breath, her eyelids drifting down. "So we're stuck here 'til this is figured out?"

Scorpius nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. Both of them getting worked up wasn't going to help their situation. "Seems so."

A drop of ice trickled down Rose's spine as she recalled the bizarre sensation of someone standing behind her. She hadn't put much thought into it, because she'd thought they were leaving, but now . . . .

The sudden, mingling looks of fear and discomfort in her face alarmed him. "Rose?" He cupped her face with his hands, forcing her to lift her gaze to meet his. "What's that look?"

Swallowing hard, she slipped her fingers around his wrists. "I think . . ." She lowered her voice, suddenly overcome with the strangest urge to whisper, "I think there's_ something_ here with us."


End file.
